


Air Conditioner

by LittlePeony



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: M/M, also? I watched a playthrough of a game and one of the last line of dialogue hit me like a train, and i had to use the sudden blast of inspo to write thise, nothing much happens i just like angst, yeah i hopped on the one ship everyones sick of reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:01:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28624506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlePeony/pseuds/LittlePeony
Summary: Inspired by true events
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
Kudos: 8





	Air Conditioner

He stared over at me. And his gaze made me feel so cold that I forgot it was mid August, and my skin did, too. I rubbed at my arms, felt the prickles of gooseflesh. 

But he just looked back outside, into the night, into the expanse of black fighting the ocean of lights, where they were sunken in the trenches of streets and the mountains of skyscrapers. He stayed like that for a while, let the wind from so high play with his hair- I couldn't tell where the strands ended and the black clouds above began. But then he spoke, and though his voice was always so soft, so wavering, the cracking and dryness of it made me jump- "Those photos of the skyline- they're supposed to be like a tree line. Give off the same emotion. Like freedom is just in a horizon on a postcard to remember when you're really there to see it." 

I looked out at the way, at all the fake lights, the honking cars, the exhaust they gave off. And then I looked back, and saw him just sitting above the freedom below- thousands of feet and too many stories for me to remember, all above the concrete that seemed so horribly stationary in its hardness. It felt like looking at a gallows. 

"I think it feels like a cage, now." 

I met his eyes. Through the glimmers of florescent, a gilded dome of bars made out of shadow and of brightness. 

Deep breath in, "You've been running from so much, you've put it all behind you, and now look- it's all in front of you here." 

Pupils too big for me to not be worried and squeamish about looked over across the street. I wondered if he really saw. My arms were starting to ache against the windowsill, I was leaning out so far the wood of the trim was going to leave pink indents into my stomach. 

"It's the same now, it's been that way for a long time." 

His mouth opened, I bit my own lip to see if they were nearly as chapped as he spoke, "Is that supposed to mean I should feel like it's a rock? It's unchanging- it's assured?" 

They weren't. Maybe I was trying to bite those lips really, for him. "No. It means what you're doing isn't giving you what you'd really want." 

I hated those eyes, then. I felt like I was looking at a blind man- all milky glossed over with cataracts. 

But they were rimmed in red. 

And I felt like those cracks of red veins, then.


End file.
